Water and Wine
by iluvtorun
Summary: Felicity attempts to warm up after their trip to Russia. A tag to 2x06 (spoilers too I suppose). Was supposed to be a oneshot, but added a second chapter with Oliver's ramblings.
1. Felicity

**AN: So, this is my first foray into the Arrow fandom. Caught season 1 on Netflix, and fell in love. Felicity took me by surprise at the end of the Season, I was solidly in Laurel's corner until the last 3 episodes or so. Spoilers (and a few lines) from Episode 2x06, Keep Your Enemies Closer. Boy, title makes a ton of sense NOW, doesn't it. The characters, of course, are not mine. And sorry for any typos, had to get this OUT of my head so I could sleep. **

Felicity sank into the warm bath water, willing the heat of the tub to _finally_ drive away the bone-cold chill that seemed to have stuck with her since their return from Russia. Oh, how she wished things had been as simple as she had made it sound to Oliver when she knocked on his door and had found Isabel leaving. . . looking perfect, and yet perfectly mussed at the same time. It had been blatantly obvious what had happened. Glaringly obvious. She really wished that she could leave what had happened in Russia _in Russia_. She wished that she could compartmentalize and separate things as well as Oliver seemed to.

Except the minute _that_ thought came into her head, she felt a wave of guilt. Because as much as Oliver Queen tried to hide it, he was not coping well. She knew it. She could see, even though he thought she couldn't. Or perhaps he wished she couldn't. She exhaled, then sipped from the wine glass sitting on the sink. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. _Think warm thoughts, think warm thoughts. _Instead, she saw pained blue eyes looking at her. He thought he hid the pain, but she could see it. She could hear the undercurrent of it as he spoke.

_"Because of the life that I lead, I think it's better to not be with someone I can really care about."_

She exhaled, growling her frustration. Because what in the world was she supposed to do to keep from thinking about that. She was probably reading too much in to what he said. In fact, she was nearly certain of it. But irregardless of whether or not Oliver had feelings for her, he deserved some modicum of happiness. After all of the pain and loss he had suffered, he deserved to love and be loved. To have someone know him and love him for who he was.

She could even understand that he needed to reach out, to be with someone. He didn't always welcome it from her. She thought of the night he had discovered Sara Lance was the Black Canary. She thought of the pain in his eyes, and his insistence that he could carry the weight of this secret on his own shoulders. She remembered how she had hugged her arms around herself as they had spoken, because there was a part of her-a part that was growing stronger every day-that wanted to reach out and embrace him and let me know the weight of the world was not only on his shoulders. That she would carry it with him, and do so gladly. But he wouldn't allow it, she knew. So she waited. Just as she had waited for five agonizing months to look for him. They had waited to seek him out until the situation in Starling City was so dire that he would not be able to say no to coming home.

But, _God_, there was only so much she could take sometimes. As if the rumors flying around Queen Consolidated were not enough. As if the fact that Oliver had simply disappeared after the Undertaking, without so much as a goodbye or a note was not enough. No, there was always more. There was the horrendous trip alone in the car from the airport in Moscow to the hotel with Isabel.

_Isabel had sat across from her in the back of the car, appraising her with cold, shrewd eyes. "You can kid yourself all you want, you know Felicity," Isabel had said. Felicity had glanced at her, then turned back to watching the dingy scenery pass by her window. Unfortunately, Isabel did not let that deter her. "Everyone at Queen Consolidated has an opinion on how you ended up as Oliver Queen's EA. But you should know, you don't really have any hold on him at all." Isabel had leaned forward in her seat. "You are nothing but a dalliance, and he will certainly take anything better that comes along."_

_Felicity had turned toward her then. "You don't really know anything about Mr. Queen's character at all, Ms. Rochev."_

_Isabel had smiled at her then . . . one of those condescending smiles that could make a lesser person feel inadequate. "Be certain to call each of our holdings and arrange a time for us to visit in the morning. And I would like breakfast promptly at 8am. Toast, dry, and fruit. Bottled water. And of course a coffee." Isabel had prattled on with some other commands. Felicity wished vehemently to inform Isabel that she was, in fact, _Oliver's assistant_, not her hers. But in the interest of keeping the peace, she had bit her tongue and taken notes like a dutiful assistant. Instead of an MIT graduate._

The whole exchange had been a lot less humiliating BEFORE she arrived at Oliver's door and had seen Isabel's smirk as she left his room. _That_ was what had made things unendurable. She could understand that he needed someone. She didn't expect it to be her. She just wished it hadn't been Isabel. Felicity shivered again.

She took another sip of her wine. _Warm thoughts, warm thoughts. _Oliver had been back in Starling City for only five weeks. She had volunteered herself up as serial killer bait, had swung out of a sky rise window by a blind cord, and had been almost certain that Digg would not make the return flight home. Tomorrow she would have to go back to work and smile at Isabel Rochev, and at Oliver, pretending that nothing had changed. Because really, it hadn't. She was still the same person. Oliver was still the same person-carrying the weight of the world on his scarred shoulders. When the weight-and his self imposed isolation-became too much, he became human and slipped up. He claimed what happened between him and Isabel was a mistake. That it didn't mean anything. She supposed that was better than him feeling something for the wicked witch. Finally, she smiled. And felt warm. Tomorrow was a new day. And while it would bring challenges, she and Digg would stand by Oliver's side as they faced them head-on.


	2. Oliver, P1

_AN: So, this was supposed to be a one shot. But, like everyone else, it would seem, I am super duper stuck on this episode and looking forward to seeing what's next. So here's a look at what may just be going on in our favorite angsty hero's head. I'm splitting it in to two parts, because there is so much going on in my version of Oliver's head :-) As usual, the characters are not mine. Follows along the story line of Episode 2x06.  
_

Oliver sat in the quiet darkness of the foundary on the second night home from Russia. Diggle had taken a personal day, undoubtly to spend time with Lila. And Felicity..._Felicity_. He had to close his eyes against the image of her face this afternoon, as she had asked him why he had chosen to sleep with Isabel. It hadn't been the first time she had asked...she had asked him a similar question while they had still be in Russia, but it had been the nearly broken expression on her face that had nearly been his undoing.

And he had revealed far more to her than he had meant to. Far more than he had even realized himself, really.

It hadn't been until Isabel had blindsided him with her suspicions that he and Felicity were sleeping together that he even considered the unforeseen implications of her new position as his Executive Assistant.

The thing that boggled him most is that he was certain that Felicity _had _foreseen the implications, and while she had argued against her promotion on other grounds, she had never pointed out that her colleagues would think of her as Oliver Queen's latest plaything. She was brilliant . . . there was no way that the thought hadn't occurred to her. And dammit, why hadn't it occurred to him? It certainly would have occurred to the pre-island version of himself. That Oliver Queen certainly would have wanted to have an Executive Assistant like Felicity as his plaything. Of course, that version of Oliver Queen would never have found himself as CEO of Queen Consolidated. And no one who really knew Felicity Smoak would dare cast her in a role as _anyone's_ play thing. Which is why he had been so stunned by Isabel's declaration of their assumed relationship . . . why on earth hadn't Felicity brought it up to him?

She was not meek. He thought of all the times she had stood up to him...declaring she had made a mistake signing on with him, back in the beginning. Arguing her position about going undercover for information on Walter. Calling him on his bullshit when he came home from the island and was so self-absorbed that he couldn't see what was going on with Diggle. She should have said something. Why wouldn't she have said something? And then he had to press the whole issue to the back of his mind, because he and Diggle had a meeting to get to.

xxx

Eighteen hours later, he had managed to send Diggle alone and unarmed into the Koshmar, a Russian prision. He felt helpless, and completely unable to assuage Felicity's concern for their partner. While he hid his concern behind a mask, so that he could function and make it through the other tasks they had to complete, she wore her's on her face, open and there for anyone to see. It served to remind him of the stark differences in their nature, and for whatever reason this set him even more off balance as the day went on. They moved through their day, doing what was necessary, and he tried hard not to think about what Isabel had said about Felicity. He tried hard not to think about Digg, and all the things that could go wrong with this mission. By the end of the day, he was strung tighter than a bow string. Had they been in Starling City, he would have exhausted himself at the Foundry, working out until the time to extract Diggle came. But here, in Russia, he had nothing to do but wait. Spending time alone in his room, where he would have entirely too much time to himself to think, held no interest for him. He thought briefly of going to see Felicity, but it was clear Isabel already had misconceptions about them that would be reinforced should she somehow find them together. Plus he didn't want to be reminded of his inadequacy in appeasing her worry for Digg.

That was his mindset when he headed into the hotel bar that evening. And _of course, _Isabel Rochev was there waiting, asking him why he missed the tour of their holdings. She surprised him by speaking Russian. They had a drink together and he slid back into his mask as Oliver Queen, CEO billionaire. Eventually he fished for more information on his perceived relationship with Felicity. If Isabel was to believed, all of Queen Consolidated thought that they were sleeping together. "She's just a friend," he told her, but even as he said the words, he knew they were inadequate. She was one of the few people who truly knew the real him. Someone he could trust. _Focus, Oliver_. He worked to redirect the conversation away from Felicity. Then she surprised him again, by stating she saw the real him. By saying they were both lonely. Whenever someone reminded him of how lonely he was, it always made him feel that loneliness in the deepest recesses. He spent so much time trying to push back that loneliness. When it was drawn to the forefront, it was hard to cram it back into the place he had carved out from it. A solution presented itself in his mind. A way to assuage Isabel's theories that he and Felicity were sleeping together. A way to press the loneliness away. Within minutes, he and Isabel were in the elevator on the way to his suite.

When they made it to his room, and she pressed him against the wall, kissing him, the wrongness of the situation sunk home. She kissed him, and he felt . . . _nothing_. Meaningless sex was something the old Oliver Queen had been quite accustomed too. It was nothing new. But he hadn't had meaningless sex in six years. He protested a bit, telling her that he didn't have much time, but she grinned and assured him she could be quick. And that was exactly what it was. Hard and quick and without emotion. After, she sat on the bed, primping her hair. It didn't even take him that long to get ready, because he hadn't removed his clothes. He fixed his Oliver Queen, CEO smile on his face as he made his apologies and headed out the door. But when he opened it, he found Felicity standing there, raising her hand to knock. She had her contacts in, and looked beautiful.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he returned, lamely. This was not good. He could see the concern and worry in her features. He heard Isabel moving behind him. Felicity showing up at his door, without her glasses, looking beautiful, would do _nothing _to help assuage Isabel's idea they were sleeping together.

"It's time, right?" Felicity said.

He opened his mouth to answer, not even sure what to say to her. "Yeah, but . . ."

And at that moment Isabel pushed passed him, looking scornfully at Felicity as she went. "I think she can have the night off, don't you?" she said, casting what he was sure she thought was a sexy look over her shoulder. He watched, helpless as Felicity's mouth fell open in a little oh of horror.

The expression on her face brought him physical pain. He couldn't even explain it. "Felicity . . . " he started.

She shook her head at him, trying hard to clear her features. "What happens in Russia,stays in Russia," she said, spinning on her heels and marching toward the elevator. He heard her mumbling to herself as she went.


	3. Oliver, P2

_AN: Here's the last little installment of this fic. Too bad its only MONDAY, and not Wednesday!_

In the dark of the Foundary, Oliver remembered the quiet, awkward flight home from Russia. Other than confronting him in the jeep outside Kashmar, Felicity had spoken no more to him than necessary. They had explained Lila's presence to Isabel by simply saying Diggle had met an old friend while they were in Russia, and that she had decided to accompany them home on the jet. As Oliver sat next to Isabel on the flight home, keeping up pretenses, he watched Diggle and Lila from the corner of his eye. They sat in the back of the plane together, cuddled up and continually touching. Felicity sat watching them with a half smile. Any time her eyes moved toward him, though, the smile faded. She was definitely acting differently towards him, and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

When the plane landed, Felicity was off first. She didn't say a single word to him on the ride home either. He expected her to rant at him the minute Isabel got into her own car and left, but she only stared out the window as Diggle drove to her apartment, Lila seated by him in the front seat of the car. As she slid out, she squeezed Diggle's shoulder, and wordlessly headed up to her apartment. Diggle dropped him at his house with few words. He ate dinner with his family and went through the motions required of Oliver Queen. When he went to bed though, he found himself staring at the ceiling and thinking of Felicity's reaction. And of her silence. In the past, when she was displeased with him, she was vocal on the mattter. She ALWAYS challenged him directly to his face. She didn't fear him, even though she should. Yet, she had kept silent on the rumors circling Queen Consolidated about them. And other than asking _why_ he had chosen Isabel, she said nothing else about the entire situation. He didn't know what to make of any of it.

His mind flitted to Laurel, and her reaction when she had seen his scars for the first time. She had kissed him, and then she had left him. He had told her he was damaged before. He had hoped, once she had seen the evidence of it on his skin, that she would accept him anyway, that she would stay. Instead, she had kissed him, for whatever reason . . . pity, perhaps? And had left him there. Yes, eventually they had slept together, but she didn't see the real him. And if she did, she would certainly arrest him, since she rightfully held him responsible for Tommy's death.

And, of course there was Tommy. Who had called him a murderer, when he found out Oliver's secret. Oliver had mistakenly thought that once Tommy knew, he could tell him a bit about what had happened . . . that he would FINALLY be able to tell someone something. But Tommy had thrown it in his face. He didn't want to know what had turned his best friend into a killer.

Perhaps this was that moment with Felicity. She had accepted him, even though she knew he had killed. She challenged him and made him a better person. But perhaps this slip, his decision to sleep with Isabel, had finally shown Felicity enough of his damage to make her run for the hills. Maybe she was so silent because she was trying to figure out how to tell him she was done. It was, in part, why he held back from sharing too much about what happened on the island (or the ship) with her. He could barely bring himself to tell Diggle, for fear of revealing something that would make one of the two people who knew the real him discover that they didn't _like_ the real him. Diggle, at least, had an understanding of what war was like, and knew the things that a person would do to survive. Felicity had no such life experience. She was innately good and pure, and it boggled his mind daily that she was still a part of what they did. By all accounts, she shouldn't have taken it so well.

But of everyone who knew any of his secrets, she was the one who had been the least surprised. He could still remember her words in her car that faithful night, as he laid on her floorboard bleeding and barely hanging on to consciousness. "_Everything about you just became so unbelievably clear."_ She had saved his life that night, keeping her wits about her and staying, even when she didn't need to. She had stayed ever since. Although, now that he thought about it, "ever since" had only been nine months. Had it really only been that long that she had been in his life?

He thought that he would be done when they had found Walter, but she came back. She saw it through. And even when _he _had run away, leaving a sorry excuse of an extended vacation in Europe with his family and even less of an excuse with Felicity and Diggle, she had stayed. She had remodeled their space in the Foundry. She had believed that he would return. And when he didn't, she had hunted him down. She remembered her indignation on the island. _"You could at least pretend you are glad to see us." _He had been glad. He just didn't think he should go back. But she and Diggle had been right. He was needed here. She had entirely more faith in him than he had in himself.

Did her silence since their return from Russia mean that she had lost faith in him? As he had laid there, in his bed, contemplating that particular thought, he had felt like a knife was twisting in his gut. He knew that he would never be able to sleep if he continued to follow this line of thought. He exhaled, and focused on all of the times she had surprised him. On the day he had first met her. _"These look like bullet holes." _The silly things she said sometimes. _"I like having you inside me." _He ran through little moments in his head, easing the ache in his chest until he had finally drifted off to sleep.

xxx

She had continued to basically ignore him the next day in office. He tried not to think about it. It wasn't until he placed some documents on her desk, asking her to give them to Isabel's office that Felicity looked at him, and brought up the elephant in the room. Oddly enough, it was the same question she had posed in Russia that he had never answered. _Why her_.

He turned to look at her, in a way relieved that Felicity, being Felicity, brought up what was bothering her, rather than skirting around the obvious fact that she was upset.

"It just kind of happened," he said, searching for the right words. He knew that he flashed a bit of his Oliver Queen, billionaire playboy persona. "It didn't mean anything."

He watched her face fall, her eyes, go down to her desk, and he felt the knife again. He saw disappointment in her face, and he wasn't sure what that meant. He did know that he could not brush this off. It truly hadn't meant anything to him, but it did to her. Why?

"Hey . . ." he said, not at all sure what he would say. She blinked, and lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. He felt the knife twist, and said the first thing that came to mind. The truth. That he would always be alone. "Because of the life I lead, I just think its better to not be with someone I could really care about."

She looked down again, collected the papers he had brought. He listened to her heals click as she headed toward the door, certain that he was hearing the sound of her walking out of his life. He wasn't sure why this particular thing was the one that had made it happen, but it was going to happen. He took a breath and closed his eyes against the pain. But when he turned, she was standing there, facing him. "Well, I think . . . I think you deserve better than her." She gave him a half smile and walked out of the room.

It was those words that had him sitting there in the basement of the foundry, alone with his thoughts. He sat in the chair that he considered hers, and thought of all that had happened over the past few days. He thought of the words she had said. And what he had felt when she said them. _Hope._ He couldn't remember the last time he had felt truly hopeful. The closest he had come was that night he had gone to Laurel, thinking that there was an end in sight to being the Hood. But even that bit of hope had an edge of desperation to it. It had felt right and wrong at the same time.

This kind of hope felt different. He kept expecting something to be too much for Felicity. For her to FINALLY decide that it wasn't worth it. It was obvious she had been disappointed in him, but she didn't say it. She had turned around, looked him in the eye, and told him that he deserved better. She wanted more for him than he wanted for himself. She _believed _in him.

He wasn't sure why that revelation made something warm and liquid blossom where he had earlier felt the twist of a knife at the thought of her leaving. At that moment, the lights flicked on and he heard the click of her heels on the steps.

"Hey," she said.

He smiled at her. "I didn't think you'd come tonight."

She placed a hand on his shoulder as she smiled back at him. "I wasn't going to. I took a bath, had a glass of wine. But then I figured we might as well do something good. Get out of my chair and tell me what we're doing tonight."

She believed in him. She believed in _him. _Despite everything that he was, everything he had done. The world seemed full of possibilities.


End file.
